Arms and the Woman by Harold MacGrath
page 73 of 302 (24%)
page 73 of 302 (24%)
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at the side of it, the officer who had accompanied me from the frontier.
"What tomfoolery is this?" I demanded. I was thoroughly incensed. "It means that Herr will act peacefully or be in danger of a broken head," was the mind-easing reply of my quondam fellow passenger. The driver then came down from the box, and I saw that he was the officer who had joined us at the station. "If it is a frolic," I said, "one of your beer hall frolics, the sooner it is ended the better for you." The two laughed as if what I had said was one of the funniest things imaginable. "Get out!" "With pleasure!" said I. Directly one of them lay with his back to the ground and the other was locked in my embrace. I had not spent four years on the college campus for intellectual benefits only. And indignation lent me additional strength. My opponent was a powerful man, but I held him in a grip of rage. Truthfully, I began to enjoy the situation. There is something exhilarating in the fighting blood which rises in us now and then. This exhilaration, however, brought about my fall. In the struggle I forgot the other, who meantime had recovered his star-gemmed senses. A crack from the butt of his pistol rendered me remarkably quiet and docile. In fact, all became a vacancy till the next morning, and then I was conscious of a terrible headache, and of a room with a window |
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